Oxford 3,000: Story Prompt 2: Ability
by AYangThang
Summary: The rift between friendship and something more lay ambiguous between them, and Blake only had herself to blame... [An optional companion piece to Oxford 3,000: Story Prompt #1: Abandon] One-shot. It can also stand on it's own.


**Oxford 3,000 Story Prompt #2: Ability**

The rift between friendship and something more lay ambiguous between them, and Blake only had herself to blame. She wished that Yang would spend more than a passing glance her way. That she would say more than a few fleeting words when she was expected to. All in all, Blake wished that the voids were easier to fill. Ultimately, there was no immediate cure for what ailed them. Apologies were too weak to mend the wounds swiftly. They still oozed with the venom that could only come from heartache.

"What's that?"

"Tool kit."

"Oh, okay. Um, is that for…"

"My arm, yeah."

"I see…"

Blake couldn't reconcile any of it. Her memories burned with Yang Xiao Long, laying critically injured on the ground. She had to apologize a thousand times over, but each one seemed more futile than the last. No matter how many tiny murmurs she offered, she felt that they would never be enough. Yang seemed to agree, but, not out of spite. Something else ailed the woman. The long stretches of silence promised that Yang had something on her mind.

"Would you like some help?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay then, if you're sure…"

Yang said nothing, not even a grunt of reassurance.

The blond was still tending to her own nightmarish fears. She had no way to combat the doubts she felt. Neither about Blake, or herself. The Faunus couldn't soothe away months of damage overnight, or in a matter of days. She couldn't cast away her own regrets so quickly either, and any idiot would know that. Perhaps what hurt the most was the unspoken honesty between them.

Blake hadn't intended to meet Yang face-to-face at Haven.

That was merely luck, and perhaps a dash happenstance. Yang hadn't been looking for her, either. To Blake's credit, she tried desperately to reach out. The problem was that her methods were flawed, and she knew it.

"You'll tell me if you do need help though, right?"

"Nope." Yang murmured, dryly popping the end of the word breathily. "Why would I?"

"Because I want to help you whatever way I can."

"It's not really your problem."

"Isn't it, though?"

"You're not the one that hacked off my arm, Blake."

"But, I am the reason you got involved in all of this."

"You want to help? Just leave me alone for a little while. I need to concentrate."

There it was again. Yang's casual dismissal. As cruel as ever, even if she didn't mean for it to be. It was probably just truthfulness. She probably did need to pay attention to what she was doing.

Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less...

* * *

If there was one thing Yang hated above all else, it was feeling completely useless. She refused to feel that way now.

With a screwdriver in one hand, a pair of needle-nosed pliers gripped in her teeth, and a can of compressed air resting between her legs, she refused to give up. She just couldn't, not now. The sight wasn't glamorous. It didn't need to be. She just needed to get the job done, which wasn't so easy one handed. A muffled curse slipped passed her lips as she continued her work.

Weiss leaned in the doorway, watching as Yang fumbled around with the little screws that refused to cooperate. Yang grumbled incoherently as she lost her temper. The implement was supposed to make Yang's life easier. Right now, the mechanical arm only acted as point of frustration. Weiss viewed the prosthetic arm as just that. A mere tool to be used as Yang saw fit. It was a manmade device, complete with flaws and kinks to work out every now and then. Weiss often took for granted that such a complicated piece of machinery needed to be cared for regularly.

The dust it relied on could jam the components if Yang wasn't careful.

It was also a military grade arm, meaning it had guns that needed to be serviced with care. Even if they were locked into safety mode, a gun was still a gun. It might be able to discharge rounds the moment the arm had a malfunction. The technology was common in Atlas, part and partial to the atlesian upper-crust. It wasn't uncommon to see men and women outfitted with similar styles of limbs. Although, very few civilians would ever be outfitted with an arm like Yang's. No, hers was special.

It had a concussive capacity able to deal lethal blows to an opponent. Perfect for a huntress.

From her place, Weiss glanced over her shoulder. Blake was fidgeting with concern in the hallway, uneasily watching as Yang disassembled what had to be her livelihood. Weiss just sighed as she closed the door again, turning to the Faunus who paced. "That's it? That's what you're so worried about?"

"It looks like she's having problems with it…"

"It seemed like a fairly typical cleaning to me." Weiss stated flatly. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"She's been struggling with it for a while now." Blake said as she stopped in front of the door. She hovered near it, pondering if she should go inside. "It was agonizing to watch. I asked her if she wanted help. Even asking that seemed to make her angry."

"Of course it did, that's just insulting."

"What's so insulting about trying to help?"

"Firstly, it's not broken." Weiss knew this wasn't her fight to have. It was Yang's, whenever the blonde felt ready to have it. Still, if Blake wished to be punished for her guilt, she would willingly oblige the challenge. "Secondly, that's her arm. To us, it's just a machine. To her, it's part of her body. It's her responsibility to take care of it. If she can't at least do that much, she's useless if it malfunctions in the field."

"I didn't mean it that way…"

"I know you didn't, but, I most certainly did." Weiss shot back. "Blake, that thing is made of metal, dust, and bullets. It's not a civilian's arm. It was made for combat. There are risks involved with that. If your arm breaks on you, it would hurt, but it wouldn't kill you. If hers breaks there's any numbers of ways that could end badly. The dust inside could ignite like a bomb. The arm might discharge bullets at random. The hand itself could act like a vice, squeezing whatever it happens to be holding..."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Blake asked, ears wilted and eyes wetting in frustration.

The white haired woman could see the desperation in amber eyes. The Faunus in front of her so completely lost. It was almost comical, if not for the fact that the answer should have been obvious. Then again, maybe this torment was what Blake deserved for running away. For leaving, unable to see Yang's progress, or her capabilities. Maybe, the ruthlessness of it all was just part of the harsh lesson Blake needed. Perhaps Yang's stubbornness was also grounds for a punishment.

Maybe that's what it already ways. Self-imposed and quietly sinister.

Weiss licked her lips, unsure of how best to navigate this problem. She knew it wasn't one solved by allowing Blake to trample needlessly on Yang's already uneasy emotions.

"Leave her alone." Weiss said as she made her way down the hall. "She can take care of it on her own. Go pester Ruby or something."

* * *

Weiss wanted to think that Yang had to be self-reliant. It might have been a brutal reality, but Weiss didn't fully believe it either.

She spouted the nonsense like a true woman of Atlas, pride was a harsh mistress. Even she doubted that Yang would be completely independent during standard maintenance. There were shops all across Remnant strictly to do such a delicate and complicated job. Expecting Yang to do it completely on her own wasn't a far expectation, not for anyone.

Yet, it was what she expected of Yang. Purely because as a huntress, it would _have_ to be expected.

There was a fine line between high standards and flat out cruelty, and she had her own scars to prove it. One thing Weiss was sure of, however, was that Blake would never be able to be of help. Not while her own heart bled every time she even looked at the yellow painted contraption. Yang needed clinical eye for detail and a steady hand. She didn't need another bleeding soul, or pity, and most certainly not from Blake.

"Give me that." Weiss demanded later when the Faunus was sure to be out of sight.

"I've got it." Yang insisted, the instruction manual crumpled and crinkled in her lap. The arm still in a state of disrepair since she began.

"What you have is a complete mess. Now, give me that screwdriver before I beat you in the head with your own dismantled fist." Weiss demanded coldly, hand outstretched. She expected that tool to reach her palm in record time. She snatched it when Yang hesitated, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her.

The distance between them was uncomfortably short.

"Idiot…" Weiss breathed.

Yang just snorted. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"You." Weiss replied, not even bothering to look at the instructions as she carefully disassembled each and every tube containing dust. "I am so sick of watching you fumble around. It's unsightly."

Yang rolled her eyes. "Well excuse the fuck outta me for trying to live my life…" She bit out, wincing when Weiss shot her a glare. "What now?"

"You have a munitions expert for an uncle, a mechanical prodigy for a sister, and a teammate hailing from the same company who built this arm for military use." Weiss chastised hotly, plucking a small bowl to deposit more screws. Each empty tube of dust waited to be cleaned as Weiss began removing the rest of the innards so that they, too, could be properly examined. "Any one of us could have easily helped you, but you chose to do it on your own, like an idiot."

"It's not _that_ hard…"

"It's not about difficulty, it's about practicality. You're smarter than this. You should be using what you have at your disposal." Weiss scowled, affixing her cold stare onto Yang. "You wouldn't perform an oil change on Bumblebee one handed would you?"

"Can't…"

"Then why on God's green Remnant would you think you can fix your arm one handed?" She shook her head, returning to her meticulous work. "You're being a moron, Yang, and you know it…"

"Could you watch it with the name calling?" Yang bit out.

"That completely depends on you. Would you rather I ask about your feelings?" Weiss asked.

Yang didn't answer. Long moments passing by with only the sounds of metal slowly sliding across metal.

"What about your nightmares?" Weiss asked then as she continued to work. "Do you want me to ask about them?"

Again, Yang didn't answer.

"Do you really want me to underestimate you that much?" That question struck a nerve as Yang winced, refusing to look at icy blue eyes regarding her. "I didn't think so…"

The blonde flexed, her lips pressed tightly together. The air around her warming noticeably.

"If you wanted me to coddle you, Yang, I would." Weiss replied, but this time, she didn't look back to Yang at all. "I can start doing that right now, if that's your preference. I can follow you around, offer to cut your food for you, and help you with every little thing…and that would only be the start."

"Yeah, no." Yang muttered. "Weiss, I'm fine."

"Then start acting like it." She shot back, the sound of a small click, and the rest of the parts inside came out in one cohesive peace, waiting to be cleaned and oiled. "There's a fine line between healthy self-reliance and stubborn idiocy. If you don't want to be hung by your own hypocrisy, I'd suggest you think about that..."

* * *

Desire itself was an uncomfortable thing, but it twisted in the air, all the same.

Before Beacon fell, lives were lost, and blame was thrown around like confetti, there was a magnetism among the team.

It was a feeling akin to synergy, a thrill of cohesiveness in battle. It was unity, togetherness when the day itself was done. It was acceptance, when personal walls began to fracture. What was left was something intangible, and yet, indisputable. Though, in truth there were no titles afforded to the budding romances. The term partner seemed inadequate, but it was all they had at the time.

Weiss hadn't bothered to fully consider what her future with Ruby might look like. The girl had been too young to think about in such a profound way, and Weiss found herself much too uncomfortable even considering it. Back then, Ruby hadn't taken the time to think about romance at all. It was out of her experience and beyond her reach. Her lofty goals clinging to far different aims, ones that didn't have a place for romantic love.

At least, not at the time.

Now, caught between what could have been, Weiss found herself mulling over the past few days. Yang's touch, her obstinate attitude, her refusal to even acknowledge the things that needed to be said. It was as frustrating to Weiss as it was to Blake, which spoke deeply of how long this quiet warfare had gone on.

Pale feet crossed the small bedroom. Walking from one side to the other. Soundless and precise.

Ruby watched her, and in that gaze, Weiss captured a glimpse of Ruby as she was now. She was a little older, a lot wiser, and afraid in ways that she had never before experienced. They both were, and those lost words echoed in a harmony that couldn't be denied. Not even if Weiss wanted to. Looking to Ruby as she was now, Weiss could begin to see the stepping stones of a future.

It was distant, but it was there. Lurking in the thousands of words that neither of them had taken the chance to say.

Weiss could see that future brimming with possibilities. They might hunt to their dying days, or perhaps settle down and raise a family. She could see the sparkle of something genuine, and it was not so out of reach. Still, she continued to pace, because she knew that Yang's struggles with Blake would not be so easy. So long as the fate of the team seemed murky, that distant future she might share with Ruby clouded over in uncertainty too. The team would fragment significantly, if it could not be mended back together.

"Weiss you're tired."

"Yes, I know."

"Then maybe you should stop pacing."

"I'm not nearly tired enough for bed."

"Except that you look dead on your feet."

"It's my mind that keeps me up, not my body."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

It was a lie she made effortlessly. This was not the time to discuss matters of the heart. Although, she doubted there would ever be a good time. So long as there wasn't, she'd never give into the little considerations she had come to notice as time slipped by. Ruby looked beautiful, even with that unhappy little frown. Silver eyes blinking inquisitively as she watched the pacing continue. She was too pure for her own good, and too tarnished by the whims of the world to ever survive any of it unscathed.

Weiss could feel the burn of her gaze. She hated it. How warm it made her feel, coupled with the fact that Ruby wouldn't soon give up her post. Even if it was merely to watch her teammate attempt to wear a hole in the floor.

"Weiss…"

"What?"

"I'm tired too."

She sounded it.

She sounded like so many things, that the single word itself was not expressive enough. Weiss wouldn't even think to argue about the tone in Ruby's voice. She had every right to be tired, exhausted in more ways than one. Blue eyes crossed the expanse between them, seeing the sad and weary expression. Weiss felt her jaw tighten, thousands of admissions dying in a soft breath that slipped between her teeth.

"I know." She murmured quietly, carrying herself across the divide to claim her side of the bed.

It would be impossible to fall asleep right now, but if she couldn't at least try, she would be a hypocrite too…


End file.
